Dexbra  The Forbidden Love Satire
by thorney33
Summary: Taking place at the end of Season 6 Dexter...what will happen? A satirical piece on the forbidden love.
1. Debra and Dexter: Season 7

"_Oh, God"_

Dexter stares deep into the eyes of Debra, who returns the stare with an odd look that could only be described as fear and shock…or was it something deeper? Whatever the case, Dexter would have to choose his next words carefully.

"That's what she said."

Debra's eyebrows shoot straight up, and Dexter rolls his own eyes. How could he be so foolish?

Harry appears next to Dexter, and pats his son on the back. _"Dexter, you can't make that joke if it was something you said originally. That's like comedic masturbation, son. It doesn't fit the code."_

Dexter slaps his forehead and turns to Harry. "Of course…I'm sorry. That was just poor comedic timing…or poor writing."

Debra's look of fear turns to one of confusion. "Dex, who the _fuck_ are you talking to?"

Dexter has to think fast. He stands over the body of Travis Marshall, holding the knife that he just plunged into his chest to kill the religious nut job. "Nobody, Deb. What am I, crazy?"

"I'm not sure if you're crazy…I'll ask my shrink next time I see her on company time."

Debra slowly builds up the courage to walk over towards her brother, who remains stoic. He points at Debra, who stops.

"You just stepped through Harry. Did it feel cold? Like walking through a mist?"

Debra looks confused. "What the fuck?"

"Nothing."

Debra examines the body on the table, and she gasps in shock. "Oh wow…a guy on the show that I haven't slept with yet. Good one, Dex. Way to be a cock blocker."

"Deb…don't be so hard on yourself. There's still Mike."

"Who the fuck is Mike?"

"You know, Anderson? The new detective?"

Debra looks confused once again. "We have a new detective? Is he the one that is good with computers?"

"No, he's the one that didn't have any lines."

"LaGuerta?"

"We could only hope."

Debra laughs. It was good to see that Dexter still had a sense of humour in spite of this situation…whatever this was. But one thing was for certain…she loved him. Like, more than a friend. Like, more than a brother. Hell, even more than Quinn…you know the guy who used to be a good cop? Man that was hot. She wasn't leaving here until he knew how she felt.

"Dexter…I have something to tell you…"

Dexter puts down his circular saw in frustration. "Deb…can you find a power outlet for this, please? I forgot my bloody extension cord."

The smile falls from Debra's face. "Yeah, sure."

Dexter was always doing this to her; shutting her out. It was so frustrating. Maybe she was being too subtle. Maybe she should be dropping hints instead.

"Say, Dex? I can't find a place to put this in…but maybe you can…"

Dexter stops unwrapping the body on the table and spins around, confused "I'm sorry?"

Too subtle. She would have to try harder.

"You feel like taking a trip to Alabama this weekend…with me?"

Dexter slowly begins to saw through the flesh of his latest victim. "Alabama? Does it have good place to hide bodies?"

"No…just thought it'd be nice to get some of that culture into us…into me."

She slowly unbuttons the front of her shirt, and peels it off. Dexter drops the saw, and his jaw. Ghost Harry slowly begins to play with his nipples.

"That's how we Morgan's do, Dex."

Dexter slowly walks towards Debra, and takes her shirt out of her hand. "Thanks, Deb. This will do nicely.

Dexter walks back to the body, and begins to wipe the table clean of Travis' blood with the shirt.

"You know Dex, that's not the only fluid that shirt can mop up."

Dexter stands up, slowly examining the crime scene. "I don't think there's any saliva…but thanks, Deb. I love you."

Debra attempts to burst into tears, but to her shock, none come.

"Holy mother fucking shit. I think my tear ducts are all dried up. How did this happen!"

Dexter walks to his sister, concerned. "Deb, you are horribly dehydrated. How many fingers am I holding up?"

Debra begins to sway, and falls to the ground. Dexter holds her close, and yells out to Ghost Harry. "Call an ambulance!"

Ghost Harry runs to the payphone outside, but the phone passes through his ghost hands. "No! Damn my ghost hands! Damn them to hell!"

There is a tap on Harry's shoulder, and he turns around. There stands Professor Gellar, holding his shoulder. Harry yells out, "What happened to you!"

Gellar moans in pain. "I was out dancing with my friend Travis when a truck full of Twist-ies ran me down. I never saw it coming…"

Harry raises his eyebrow at Gellar. "You didn't see that coming?"

Back in the church, Deb is near passing out.

"Dex…I need to say something…"

"Say it…"

"I…love…"

Debra passes out, and Dexter throws his arms up in the air.

Hours later, Debra wakes up in the hospital. She grabs the arm of the doctor, and brings him close. "Where's my brother…where is Dexter?"

The doctor looks at Debra, confused. "He's been arrested…he's a serial killer."

"You don't understand…I need to tell him I love him…"

"No…you don't understand…he's a killer."

"I won't let you come between us!"

Debra smacks the doctor in the face, and flees the hospital. As she exits, she conveniently spots Dexter being led away by Quinn and Batista and loaded in the back of a police car.

"Dexter…no! Wait!"

Debra runs up, but Quinn holds her back. "Deb…wait…please…marry me. I'm so lonely."

"Fuck off, Quinn!"

She throws him aside, and he falls to the ground, drunk and redundant. Debra stares at Angel, as if challenging him to a spot of rough and tumble.

"Angel…I need to talk to Dexter."

Angel takes off his hat…after all, it is night time. After some hesitation, he puts it back on. To cover up both the shame of his bald patch and the 'Maria LaGuerta Gives The Best Blowjobs In Miami' tattoo he got emblazoned above his fringe.

"Deb, he's going away for a long time."

"So is your face."

Angel narrows his eyes, and steps aside. "Well played."

Debra hops in the police van, and holds Dexter tight.

"Dex…they say you're a killer."

"It wasn't me…it was my dark passenger."

"Your _what_?"

Dexter sighs. "Some black guy I picked up on the way to the Church…never trust a hitchhiker, you know?"

Debra laughs. If Dexter said this is what happened, this was what happened. After all, she loved him.

"I…love…you."

Dexter smiles, and casually takes off his cuffs and puts them on Deb.

"Me too, non-relation."

Just as they are about to kiss, Debra wakes up in a sea of sweat and various other fluids in her bed. She sits up, and gasps.

"Holy mother fucking swear word. Was it all a dream?"

A laugh comes from the end of the bed, and Debra screams.

Standing at the foot of her bed stands a well built African American male wearing a striped jumper, and with large claws coming out of his gloved hands. Debra recognises his face immediately. He waves with his clawed hands, and jumps at the screaming Deb.

"_Surprise Brother-Fucker!"_

The End


	2. Chapter 2: Raising The Bar

**RAISING THE BAR**

Dexter stared across the dance floor towards his target. Isaak Sirko, 48; former leader of the Koshka Brotherhood. The feared gangster remained ignorant of the killer's presence as he danced around to the show tunes playing in the club. Leaning back against the bar, Ghost Harry suddenly appeared to Dexter's left.

"Gee, son…I haven't been to this place in years."

"You've been here before?"

Harry ruffled his brow and winked at the bartender. "You aren't the only one who had a hole inside him that needed filling occasionally."

"You mean like a…dark passenger…"

Dexter's eyes rolled back into his head and he came a little as he spoke his favourite words. Harry merely pointed at Sirko as he made his way into the toilets, flanked by two large looking European men.

"They must be Sirko's cronies."

Dexter finished his drink and stealthily made his way through the dancers and out of Harry's sight. The barman leaned over and shook his head, handing a beer to Harry, who took it with glee.

"Are you going to tell him you're actually alive?"

"Eventually."

Outside the bar, Debra Morgan sat back in her car shaking. Ever since she had walked in on Dexter all those months ago her life had never been the same. What he had been doing…it all came flooding back to her.

"_Dexter…are you here?"_

"_Oh, God! Deb! Get out!"_

"_Dex…are you masturbating? Wow…"_

"_Get out of my bathroom!"_

Ever since that day, she hadn't been able to get Dexter out of her head. She loved him. She loved him more than any of the random guys she had gotten off with over the past few years. The old white guy. The young white guy who seemed slightly Latino. The black guy. The other young white guy. She prided herself in catering for all races down there.

A cough came from the passengers seat, and there he was. Deb's own dark passenger. James Doakes, convicted Bay Harbour Butcher, innocent man. Well, innocent corpse.

"What you doin' here, Morgan? I tailed this freak once…didn't end well for me."

"He's been inside that bar for half an hour now…lucky bar."

Doakes narrowed his eyes and flexed his muscles slightly. All of the muscles. "Damn it, Morgan; you shouldn't even be here. Your brother is a killer. You need to take this to Miami Metro."

Deb snorted; Doakes didn't understand. Nobody could. "I have taken this to Metro! Angel told me if God said I should bang my brother, then I had his blessing. Quinn cried and continued being largely redundant. Masuka just asked for pictures."

"And what about the black cop?"

"Which one? Mike?"

"Nah, the girl!"

"The girl black cop?"

The debate was interrupted as the door to the bar flew open. Dexter staggered out, holding his eyes and screaming in agony. He dropped to the carpark and clawed madly, before falling still.

Deb was out of the car before somebody could say, "But he's your brother", and ran to his hide. Doakes watched on as she pulled his hands away from his eyes and recoiled in horror.

"_His eyes, mother fucker…"_

**To be continued…**


	3. Chapter 3: Best Blowjob in Miami

"_Shoot him, Debra!"_

Deb stood motionless, gun raised, staring at the who people in front of her. On the right, Maria La Guerta; ex-wife, Captain, whore. On the left…the man she loved. Dexter Morgan. Her brother, but thankfully, not by blood. He was dressed in plain clothing, a butchers apron draped around his firm form. She thought he looked ravishing; but probably not the best time to bring the fact up.

Dexter dropped the knife in his hand and raised his arms in the air…arms that she so wished were draped around her shivering form at that very moment. "She's right, Deb…you're a good person. Do what you gotta do."

_A good person. _What did that even mean? Would a good person be standing here, gun pointed, at two of the most important people in her life? Would a good person swear every curse word imaginable at the drop of a hat? Would a good person wipe from back to front because she kind of enjoyed the texture it brought?

A tear came to her eye. "I'm…I'm not a good person Dex."

"None of us are good people, Deb. I mean, look at La Guerta. She slept her way to the top and didn't even have any qualms about getting Matthews fired."

La Guerta shrugged nonchalantly. "…neither is Dexter, Lieutenant. He kills people, chops up their bodies, hires a nanny to watch his born-in-blood son every waking hour of the day, killed his own brother, got his ex-wife killed, framed his ex-wife's husband and sent him back to…"

Dexter rolled his eyes at how much of a bitch La Guerta was, and had been, for many seasons. "Alright…you've had your turn. You have to choose, Deb."

Deb swayed back and forth, gun rotating between the two standing before her. Finally, it rested upon one of them. She had made her choice.

"Maria…I hear you give the best blowjobs in Miama?"

La Guerta smiled. While she hadn't been happy at the accusation at the time, it was nice to get a little recognition for good work. Her scout leader from when she was 7 would have been proud of how far her oral sex skills had taken her in life. "Why…yes, Deb. I believe I do."

"Then suck on this."

Deb lunged forward and plunged the gun into La Guerta's open mouth, and then pulled the trigger. The gun exploded inside her and blasted it's contents all around the Captain's throat and cheeks, plastering her with a sticky liquid. Unfortunately for Maria, she spat it out to discover it was dark red. Blood. Her blood.

She dropped to the floor and lay still, finally dead after seasons of meaningless storylines and broken relationships. Dexter studied the open hole where her mouth once had been, blood steadily pouring out of the fatal wound. With a sly grin, Debra noticed a bulge in her brother's pants. She slowly leaned down to touch the quivering member…

…but Dexter moved away, just out of reach. Grabbing the bloody body, Dexter nodded towards the door. "Do you mind, Deb? I've got a…uh…claim to test."

Debra sadly made her way out of the container as Dexter pulled down his pants and began to make love to the bloody hole in La Guerta's head, moaning out something about _Ghost Harry_ and _Dark Passenger is making me do it_. Crying silently, she fell to the ground, wishing against all wishes that it had been her head that Dexter had been fucking instead of the dead Captain's.


End file.
